


The Thing About Dreams

by TravelingSong



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, inspired by the 4x22 promo pics, of them in a motel room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 15:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10857198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TravelingSong/pseuds/TravelingSong
Summary: “I had a dream like this once,” she starts.“Of us meeting in a motel room?”“Something like that.”





	The Thing About Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the promo pics for 4x22 and this kind of wrote itself. Comments are much appreciated. Enjoy!

"Lizzie."

"May I come in?"

"Please."

It's late in the evening when she knocks on the door of his current safe house, a motel by the highway. He hadn't' expected her, can't remember having set a meeting. He wonders if she has news for him, if it's good or bad, what her mood will be, if he has done something wrong. He rarely knows these days. Sometimes it's all a blur to him.

She walks past him and looks around as he closes the door behind her.

"This isn't up to your usual standards," she observes.

"It's not. But it seemed like the safest option right now."

"Inconspicuous."

"Precisely."

He sits down on the bed, gestures towards a chair in the corner of the room but she tells him she'd rather stand. She seems nervous, he thinks. He hopes nothing has happened.

"Are you here to talk about the case?" he asks.

"Not exactly. I'm here to talk to _you_."

"To me?"

"You seem surprised."

"You haven't exactly sought out my presence these past months, Lizzie."

"That's why I'm here." She wants to explain so desperately. She has so much to tell him. "I'm here to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"For the way I've treated you. The way I've hurt you."

It's all a bit too much, a bit too quick, but she can't stop herself and he looks so broken.

She had been angry, had been unfair, maybe cruel, her deceptive fantasies collapsing with every passing day. The reality she had so carefully created, the illusions she had so stubbornly held on to.

"I had built up a fantasy that wasn't real and I let it consume me. I'm not sure I can really make you understand but I mean what I say, Red. And I hope you believe me."

"I think I understand perfectly." It's poignant and unmistakable, his response, and she feels ashamed suddenly, the weight of her actions resting heavily on her shoulders. There's a physical ache that's resonating within her, growing and pulsating, muting the words on her tongue.

_I'm sorry. I was wrong._

_Forgive me._

"If i may ask," he inquires calmly, "why the change of heart?"

She wishes she had a simple answer, one moment of clarity. A specific memory maybe, or a keepsake, a photograph even.

But the truth was it wasn't a _change_ of heart at all. She had always felt the same way about him, or as long as she could remember now. It was her anger, her discontent that had blurred her vision, that had led her farther away from him with every irate comment, every suspicious look. Always the easiest target. Always just a step too far. The constant regret and inability to right her own wrongs. The apathy that had insidiously settled until it was too late.

"I don't think I could fully explain it," she tells him with an apologetic smile. "But maybe I can try one day."

It's all she can offer now, a step in the right direction. A step towards the way they were.

They fall back into silent contemplation, preoccupied with their own thoughts. Somehow it's just what they needed, the company of the other without the severity of words, the right and the wrong ones. Just a chance to grow accustomed to each other again, devoid of rage and animosity and grief.

A chance to _be_ together and a few minutes of peace.

A story in the back of her head eager to be shared.

She's feeling just courageous enough tonight.

"I had a dream like this once," she starts.

"Of us meeting in a motel room?"

"Something like that."

He looks at her expectantly, urges her to continue with that particular expression of his. A bit challenging, a bit curious. She has his full attention now.

"I was in bed and you walked into my room with your gun drawn."

"I was threatening you?"

"Actually, you were protecting me from an intruder."

She doesn't mention his name but he knows. She is sure he can fill in the gaps, understands how this part of the dream concludes.

"And what happened then?"

She senses a shift in the air around them, a tension that simmers.

"You turned towards me and lowered your weapon."

"Were you scared?"

"No."

"Good."

"But you said something…"

She watches him rise and move towards her, the distance between them subsiding.

"What did I say, Lizzie?"

Only a few steps remaining, the room appearing awfully small suddenly.

" _What do you want, Agent Keen?_ "

She recognizes the look in his eyes, recognizes the change. Something like desire. So very intrigued.

"And you approached the bed and your eyes moved over my body—"

He swallows, leans in closer. Doesn't want to miss a single word.

 _"_ And what happened _then_?" he asks again.

"Then I woke up," she concedes.

"That's a pity." It's a whisper, low and suggestive and rich with meaning, the implications sending shivers down her spine.

Everything seems a bit clearer to her now. A bit more intense.

His gaze fixed on her, the fabric of his vest brushing against her jacket, the anticipation of his next move, her unsteady breathing, the confidence emanating from him, the yearning, the unspoken declarations, his hand _almost_ touching hers.

She wonders why it took her so long to open up to him. It could have been so simple.

"So?" he begins.

"So?"

He tugs a loose strand of hair behind her ear, longs for any kind of contact.

"What's your response?"

_What do you really want?_

She wants _this_. Just this. His proximity, his kindness. His trust. She wants it back.

"Another chance," she says.

He nods and kisses her cheek, the soft pressure a welcoming sensation, an honest gesture.

"A simple _okay_ would have sufficed, Red," she teases, her smile warm and affectionate.

"Okay."

She can't help but stare at him, his demeanor so different now, the disguise gone. He isn't hiding anymore, she thinks. It's the man she had been missing.

She doesn't look down when he finally reaches for her hand and tightens his fingers around it. She doesn't look away when he closes the gap and presses his lips to hers, briefly, fleetingly, when he gently guides her to him.

She doesn't hesitate when she feels his arms around her. She doesn't worry about what morning will bring.

They have all the time in the world.

She might just stay a while.


End file.
